The Third heiress

by Brenda Joyce

  "Yes," Alex said slowly. "There was an accident. She had a gun. It went off." He closed his eyes tightly.

  William covered his face with his hands and wept with the abandon of a child.

  Jill tried to think. If William loved Lucinda, then he

  would have never cut the brake lines to the rental car. Relief overcame her, and she darted forward, to pull Alex aside, to tell him that Lucinda's accomplice was not William, when William said, "I don't know how all of this has happened, dear God, I do not!"

  Jill froze.

  "William." Alex spoke as if with great difficulty, as if with great pain. "Please. Don't say anything. Not a word. You need a lawyer."

  "Alex," Jill tried.

  But William shook his head. "I've lost the woman I love. The woman I've loved for well over thirty years. We never meant to hurt anybody. We only wanted her to go home before she discovered the truth about my mother." He was pleading, plaintive, and looking now at Jill. "My mother told us the truth about what she did to Kate—she was dying and she couldn't bear the guilt. But Lucinda told me not to worry. She kept repeating that. She said she would manage everything!"

  "Oh, my God," Alex cried, shocked, gripping both of William's hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white— while his face lost the little coloring it had. He was not supposed to use his right arm at all. "Please. Do not say a word. Do not confess. I beg you. I will see to it that you have the best defense team in the country."

  But William was gazing at Jill. "I knew," he said heavily, "that the day Hal found you, we were all in trouble. What will you do?" he asked. "I am destroyed. Hal is dead. Lucinda..." He broke off, unable to continue, tears pouring down his face again.

  "I'm sorry," Jill whispered. "I only wanted to know if Kate was my great-grandmother, and then I only wanted to know that she ran away to live happily ever after with her love. I had no idea Edward was her lover or that she was murdered. I'm sorry." Jill realized she was crying, too.

  "I didn't want to hurt anyone," William whispered. "I thought your brakes would fail right in front of your flat." Suddenly he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, as tears streamed down his face. "I had no idea Lucinda would be in that car with you. I am so sorry."

  Jill's heart stopped.

  "William!" Alex cried, and it was a command.

  But William wasn't listening to Alex, or even to anyone. He somehow stood up, standing unsteadily, swaying like a leaf. "There's a trust. My father kept a trust for Peter. He loved him, very much. I believe Kate's estate was settled privately, between my father and Kate's mother. The trust he set aside is for Peter and Peter's heirs, in perpetuity. It's yours, you know. Edward would have wanted you to have it." He inhaled raggedly. "I should have been forthright from the first. But Thomas told me you would go home. Lucinda said the same thing." He started to cry. "The trust is yours. Now will you go home?" he whispered.

  That last question had been uttered with the bewilderment of a Uttle boy. Jill nodded, aware of the tears spilling down her cheeks. She realized Alex was staring at her, and she wondered how much he hated her now, for this. When she could speak, she said, "Alex, there's a bottle of Xanax on my bed table. Why don't you take your uncle upstairs, give him two tablets, and put him to bed?"

  Alex stared at her, every muscle in his face strained. He did not answer her, but walked past her to the closest room, a salon, where he picked up the telephone. But he did not dial. His eyes closed, his shoulders slumped.

  Jill ran to him, taking the phone from him and slamming it down. "Who were you calling?"

  He didn't face her. "The police."

  Jill gritted her teeth as she pulled the phone right out of the wall. "Take William upstairs, give him those Xanax, and put him to bed," she panted. "Okay?"

  He slowly turned, and their gazes met.

  Jill stared back, watching as his gaze became questioning and then searching. "This is our secret," she said. "And I promise I won't tell."

  In spite of her exhaustion, Jill could not sleep.

  All she could think about was William and Lucinda having a thirty-year affair, and of Alex, in his misery, behind his closed bedroom door.

  She could no more stop herself from going to him than she could stop the sun from rising that next day. Jill slipped fi-om her bedroom, clad in heavy socks, a T-shirt, and sweats, tapping lightly on his door as she pushed it open.

  One bedside light was on. He was awake, sitting up in bed, the covers pulled up to his waist, which was bare except for the bandages, his face still shockingly pale. He was staring at the fireplace on the facing wall. No fire burned there.

  "Can I come in?" Jill asked softly, her heart twisting at the sight of him. In that moment she realized how deeply she cared for him. In that moment, she wondered if she could bear the burden of a life without Alex in it. She felt shaken and stunned and elated and afraid all at once.

  He turned his head and almost smiled at her. "Sure."

  Jill faltered, because it was obvious that he'd been crying. His eyes and nose were brightly red. He couldn't quite look at her.

  Jill melted. She hurried to him, sat down beside him, and without even thinking about it, she took him into her arms, holding his head to her breasts as if he were a small child. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, gently rocking him.

  "Yeah," he said roughly, a sob in his voice. "Me, too."

  Jill continued to hold him. He did not move. She bent and kissed the crown of his head. His hair was thick and wavy and it teased her nose, and he smelled so good, a blend of talcum powder and musk, and for one moment, a jolt of need that was physical took her by surprise. She ignored it. He was so still that she wondered if he'd suddenly fallen asleep, right there in her arms.

  But after another moment, he raised his head, trying to smile and failing, tears shining in his eyes. "Oh, Alex," Jill whispered, aching anew for him.

  His left hand cupped her nape and he pulled her head down. Their lips met in a gently, barely-there brushing.

  Jill felt tears form in her own eyes as she somehow slid down the bed so they were on a level, their lips touching tenderly again and again, a bubble of sadness and joy mingling and ballooning in her heart. Alex rolled fully onto his back and Jill didn't hesitate, moving so that she lay partially on

  top of him. In spite of the sheets between them, there was no mistaking that he was fiilly erect. Their eyes met and locked.

  "Spend the night with me," he said roughly. "Please." Using his left hand to trace the line of her jaw, the tip of her nose, the shape of her lips.

  "I want to," Jill said as roughly. "I need you, too."

  She bent over him again, toward his mouth. This time they kissed with deep need and a deeper hunger. Hard. Alex's hand slid under her sweats and over her bare buttocks, then lower, down and behind them.

  Jill tore the sheets and blanket out from between them; he pushed at her sweats with one hand. Jill shimmied out of the sweats as their lips locked again, with urgency and determination.

  She tore his briefs off and slid on top of him. She gripped his full length and he pushed up, inside of her. And they moved as one, with desperation, with tears ... until she was crying out, crying his name, spinning out of control, so wildly in love, into the far-flung universe, and he was coming too, hot and wet, deep inside of her, her name a sob torn from deep inside his being.

  Afterward, he slept.

  And Jill crept back to her own room.

  The morning was cool and damp, the sky overhead partially overcast, with no real hope that the sun would shine that day. Jill stood staring at the manor and the tower behind it, braced against the chill of the breeze, glimpses of the steel gray sea flashing among the trees along the cliffs edge. Her hands were buried deeply in the fleece pockets of her red anorak.

  Kate was in the tower. Jill felt certain of it. She had been imprisoned there and now she was buried there. But it didn't matter. Not anymore.

  Because Jill was quitting and she was going home.

/>   She had done enough.

  She started past the manor, head down, tears in her eyes, trying not to think about Alex and failing miserably. She finally brushed her arm over her eyes. It was a bit late to have realized that she had somehow fallen in love with him. It was

  too late to change the past. She couldn't undo any of the harm she'd inflicted on his family. And nothing would ever bring Lucinda back to life—and there would never be justice for Kate.

  Jill still had trouble grasping the fact that Lucinda would have killed her last night without any remorse at all.

  She paused before the tower, chills sweeping over her, hating the very sight of it. She wasn't sure she had the courage to go inside. It was a place of death. First Kate, and now Lucinda, and dear God, if Alex hadn't been there last night, she might be the one who was in the Scarborough morgue.

  "Hey."

  Jill froze at the sound of Alex's voice, just behind her. She hadn't been aware of his approach. She slowly turned and met his brilliant blue regard. It was probing. And he still looked like hell.

  He did not smile. "You ran out on me last night."

  She swallowed. "I was afraid I'd hurt you in the middle of the night. Your shoulder." It was a lie. And she knew he knew it. She'd been aft-aid to wake up beside him, afraid of what would—or wouldn't—happen next.

  He didn't reply.

  "Shouldn't you be resting?" she asked nervously. He was still pale. He'd forgone shaving, and he almost looked menacing. But his eyes, which were soft, negated that possibility.

  "I feel fine," he said. "Well—" his smile was brief—"considering."

  "I am sorry," Jill cried passionately, thinking about William, sobbing over the death of his mistress, and Margaret, who must know and must hurt. "I never meant to hurt you or your family. I never meant to do any of this."

  "I know. I never meant to hurt you either, Jill. Please try to understand, please try to believe that," he said as vehemently.

  She stared, hands deep in her pockets, her heart thudding with fear. They were at the point of no return. Finally, after all the twists and turns that the search for Kate Gallagher had entailed, it had brought them to this singular point and place in time. The road forked here. Their paths would diverge—or not. "You lied to me, Alex. You stole those letters."

  "I know." His jaw flexed. "And I'm not happy about it.*'

  She wanted to believe him.

  "I was stuck. Between a rock and a hard place. Trying to head you off at the pass and protect my family while falling head over heels at the very same goddanm time." He made a sound, not quite a laugh. "Life sure has its surprises, doesn't it?"

  Jill nodded, afraid now of the future—of a future spent alone, back in her dreary life in New York City. A future without Alex. "Did Kate ever write about being afraid for her life? Does she ever point her finger at anyone?"

  "No. I'll give you die letters. Oh, I forgot, you have them." He sighed, the sound heavy and resigned.

  Jill didn't like that soimd. "Were you ever going to tell me about the DNA tests?"

  "Yeah." He wet his lips. "Honey, I had to know conclusively that you were Kate and Edward's great-granddaughter. Things were getting out of hand. After Lady E., I got scared." He met her gaze. "I got scared as all hell for you—and I w£is scared about who was behind her death."

  "So you hoped to pay me off so I'd go home."

  "Peter's trust belongs to you."

  "I didn't start this to find and claim Kate's fortune." Jill took a deep breath. "William's my half-uncle. Thomas and Lauren are my cousins." It had hardly sunk in.

  "I know." His gaze veered to the tower. "I appreciate what you did last night."

  Jill nodded, following his gaze and shivering. She could see Lucinda flat on her back, eyes wide, unseeing. "I don't think William really wanted to hurt me or anyone. I think Lucinda led him astray."

  "I hope you're right." His expression changed, becoming fierce. "I know you're right! He told me she killed Lady E. He told me he hadn't any idea she would do such a thing. He was weeping, Jill. I think she flipped out and he feels as betrayed as we do."

  "Will he be okayr

  "I don't know. He's aged, he's aged so much even since yesterday, not to mention since Hal died."

  Jill closed her eyes, shivering, but not because of the cold bite of the wind. "Everyone knew, didn't they, about Hal's obsession with Kate? Everyone recognized me, didn't they, the minute I walked in the door?"

  "Yes. We did. I did. I'm sorry. Everyone was scared, Jill. Scared of you and what you stood for and what you might do."

  "Well, I'm not doing anything. Anne murdered Kate, she told William herself. But we'll never know where Kate is, or how she died. But maybe that's for the best."

  "You don't mean that," Alex said.

  "I don't know what I mean," she said, head down.

  "Do you know how you feel about us?"

  Her head popped up, her heart slammed to a halt before starting again. "What?"

  He just smiled. It was sort of sad.

  She stepped closer to him, gripping the left sleeve of his jacket. "You saved my life last night."

  "I'd do it again," he said flatly. "I'd do it over a thousand times. That's how much you've come to mean to me."

  Jill was overwhelmed. She couldn't speak. And his question echoed in her mind. But could he really forgive her for destroying his family? And even if he thought he could, would he, with his heart? Could two people start over when a past filled with lies and deceptions lurked just behind them— between them?

  "Jill?" Alex finally said. "Thank you for last night. And I'm not talking about stopping me from calling the police."

  Jill bit her lower lip so she wouldn't cry and she nodded.

  "Hey." He pur his good arm around her shoulder, hugging her to his body. "Everything's going to work out."

  His tone was so firm that she started and looked into his eyes and saw a promise there. "I hope you're right."

  He cocked his head behind them. "Shall we take one last look around before we go back to the house?"

  Jill jerked. "What do you mean?"

  "She's got her hooks in me, too. I want to know what happened. Even if I dared ask, which I won't, I don't think William will tell me what really happened."

  '*She's in the tower,*' Jill said, her hands deep in the pockets of her anorak- Her voice sounded odd, even to her own ears. "I'm certain."

  Alex nodded.

  Alex stood beside her as two gardeners continued to dig up the earthen floor of the ruined tower. Clods of dirt and stones flew off of their shovels. *1 wonder if you're right," he said. '*Maybe that's why, when I was a kid, the locals always said this place was haunted."

  Jill felt her eyes widen. "Is that the village gossip?"

  He met her gaze. "Yeah."

  Jill leaned against the stone wall, continuing to shiver, watching as the two men who worked at Stainesmore steadily dug up the ground inside of the tower. They had gone several feet akeady, but had come up with nothing. Jill was beginning to feel dismay.

  Maybe Kate was supposed to remain lost forever.

  Maybe Jill had opened up a can of worms that fate had never intended to be opened in the first place.

  "Me lord," one of the gardeners said. "Ain't nothing here but dirt an' rock."

  Alex stepped forward, regarding the area. "It looks like you're right. Jill, they've gone a good eight feet She can't possibly be buried in here."

  Jill stepped into the tower, beside the two sweating gardeners, an odd desperation washing over her. "She has to be here, Alex. Where else would she be?" But she could see that he was right. Kate wasn't here. By now they'd have found something, anything.

  "Maybe she was tossed over the cliffs."

  Jill hated the thought. A moment later the two gardeners were being dismissed, Alex insisting they call him Mr. Preston, not "my lord," while pressing a few pounds into their palms. He came to stand beside her inside the four ruined stone walls.
/>
  "I guess this has been a wild-goose chase from the start," Jill said.

  "Has it? She was an extraordinary woman, and she was your great-grandmother. Maybe that's all we were ever meant to learn,'* Alex said, his hand on her shoulder.

  Jill smiled slightly. "You're becoming spiritual." In frustration, she kicked at the dirt at her feet and watched a rock roll away, hitting the bottom of the facing stone wall. Jill blinked.

  And felt a pressure on her shoulder. For one moment, she thought Alex was pushing her, urging her forward. But then she realized she had walked away from him and the pressure was only her imagination.

  Jill stared at the dull gray stone wall.

  And suddenly, as she looked down, something caught her eye. Jill dropped to her knees, her pulse soaring, staring, wondering if there was a letter just barely visible on the stone j wall, and thinking. No, it couldn't be.

  "Jill?"

  Jill didn't really hear Alex. She brushed the dust off of the rough stone, watching as the crude lines of the letter A emerged from the years' accumulation of dirt and grime. Stunned, Jill began brushing off the entire section of the wall with both hands, frantically, eyes wide, staring in disbelief as letter after letter was finally revealed.

  "Oh, God!" she cried. "Alex, come here! It's a message— and it's from Kate!"

  Twenty-Eight

  October 6, 1909

  1 HE EARLY AUTUMN DAY WAS BRILLIANT WITH SUNSHINE. IT

  should have been dismal and gray. For it was terribly painful being back at Coke's Way. Edward knew he shouldn't have come.

  "Papa."

  Edward realized that the sixteen-month-old bundle in his arms was squirming to be released. Gently, he set Peter down. The red-haired toddler swayed unsteadily, beaming at Edward, who could not smile back, before staggering off toward the boarded-up manor house. Abruptly tears filled Edward's eyes.

  The grief would not go away. The grief, the anger, the confusion, and the self-pity.

  There were times when he forgot, only to suddenly, violently, remember everything.